Fancy Meeting YOU here
by 3rdgymbros
Summary: The five times that Deadpool and Negasonic Teenage Warhead meet while he's on a mission, and the one time that they don't.
1. Meeting One

**A/N:** So I've watched ( read: Snuck in to see ) Deadpool three times already, and I have developed a huge crush on the Merc with a Mouth and a huge lady crush on Negasonic Teenage Warhead ( she's so pretty I literally CANNOT ). And while I was watching, I was like, "Okay, so what about an AU where Deadpool saves Ellie from that illegal facility/ laboratory, and they become sort-of-but-not-quite-friends." I know this isn't canon in the comics - I've totally never read them, so forgive any errors I've made; or _will_ make in the future! - but I hope you guys will like this story ( it's based off the movie ) anyway! Reviews and follows are appreciated!

* * *

Ellie Phimister meets Wade Wilson for the first time in a laboratory, with sterile white walls and bright lighting that gives her a headache.

Ellie's twelve year old body is stiff in the claustrophobic tube, while the machines click and whir around her. The people in white laboratory coats hover over her glass coffin, bearing clipboards and bags of fluorescent blue poison. Ellie bites down on her bottom lip so hard that she tastes blood. Her cheek is split and her temple bruised. Wet warmth trickles down her neck, mixing with panic sweat. Raw skin rings her wrists where the restraints chaff into her skin. Her heartbeat thunders in her chest, her head.

She uses all her will to give nothing away.

She's learned six years ago that screaming and crying don't generally go down well with the scientists – if anything, it only makes them smile wider, laugh louder at the misfortune of their test subjects. The staff in the facility never ask questions; never really speak to any of the kids trapped in the miserable hell-hole. The faces change, but for the past few years the 'no see, no hear, no speak' attitude has generally been the same. One time, five years ago, right before Christmas, a night nurse reported the establishment to the state. She tried to get Ellie to tell her what really happened there, but even at age seven, Ellie knew better than to answer truthfully. No one came to investigate. The nurse disappeared. Whispers in the night said that she'd been killed for daring to tell strangers about the less than stellar activities that took place in the facility.

There is no use in hoping for rescue. In real life, no one ever swoops in. In her life, no one ever notices the need.

A few seconds later, she hears a collective shriek of horror, a terrible sound of many tones and timbres. The uproar grows louder, laced with the shuffling of footsteps as people scramble to get away. The scientist sitting by the glass coffin raises a perfectly groomed yellow eyebrow, beckoning his assistant over. They huddle together for a few seconds, right before the assistant rushes off, his face pale. Ellie doesn't even have the strength to raise her head; all she can do is wheeze for air like an asthmatic, her throat tightening as the oxygen in the tube decreases. Her lungs are aching, and she has to struggle for every breath.

The scientists call it 'the worst form of torture', and they aren't wrong.

Her ears feel like they need to pop, and pressure builds in her chest, as though the air is being sucked out of her. Her head pounds, her vision darkening. Waves of excruciating, piercing pain crash over Ellie, forcing the breath from her lungs. She can barely draw breath. Her airways constrict, and her tortured, rasping gasps fill the confines of the tube. _It hurts, it hurts IT HURTS, and she can't **BREATHE** –_

As her eyes begin to close, something flies across her narrowing field of vision. There is a loud crunching sound, and suddenly, blissfully, she can breathe again. Bright spots of fire erupt along her wrist, but Ellie scarcely notices the pain as she opens her mouth and takes a giant, terrified breath, her chest screaming, her pounding head thrown back as oxygen floods into her desperate lungs.

"Isn't this low, even for you guys?" Ellie hears someone – a male? - shout in a voice that sounds like it is coming from underwater, and there are a series of loud cracks, like fireworks. Blood sprays the cover of the glass, and Ellie's already pale face blanches even further when a body lands on top of the coffin. She recognizes the mangled body – the blonde scientist from before - and her stomach churns. His pale face has been smeared with blood, and his eyes and mouth are grotesquely swollen. Golden hair fans out around his head like a pale halo, clumped together in bloody strands. His left arm is obviously broken, his forearm joining his elbow at an unnatural angle. His light grey button down is soaked black with blood, and Ellie nearly throws up her breakfast when she sees the wide hole in his stomach, along with the line of his abdomen. Ellie sees glistening red and purple, and bile scorches the back of her throat. "Doing this fucking shit to a two year old kid?"

 _I'm_ twelve _, thank you very much!_ She closes her eyes. Waits until silence descends over the room like a heavy blanket of snow before she dares to look. Her vision clears, the thumping noise in her head starting to recede. The body, thankfully, has been pulled off the glass – Ellie carefully does not look at the dull grey rope of innards on the floor – and instead focuses on the dark shadow that appears before her. All she can see is _red_ , and a rush of panic shoots through her. Her face betrays none of her inner turmoil, but remains calm, _bored_ even, as the red-clad man looks around the coffin, fumbling about clumsily and cursing. The lid eventually pops open with a hiss, after about a minute or so of the man's muffled swearing ( and Ellie vaguely thinks that there are probably sailors with cleaner mouths ), and the masked vigilante pops back up.

"Hey, kid. Can you sit up?"

Ellie swallows, tries to prop herself up on her elbows as the world tilts and darkens at the edges. She opens her mouth to speak, but the world goes black.


	2. Meeting Two

A/N: Chapter 2 up! In this one, Ellie runs away from the X-Mansion, and gets a tad more than she originally bargained for. As usual, reviews and favorites and subs are appreciated! Thank you so much to everyone who's read my story so far! It's so much fun to write interactions between Deadpool and Ellie, tbh!

* * *

Ellie Phimister sees Wade Wilson again ( though she would have been perfectly happy with just seeing him _once_ in her entire lifetime ), barely four months after he rescues her from the hellish facility that she once called 'home'.

Ellie drifts awake, her mind fuzzy. She is moving, a loud car engine rumbling somewhere behind him, the sound of rain hammering on glass close to her head. She slowly opens her eyes and finds herself looking out of a window at a pewter grey sky, towering buildings blurring as they pass, water tumbling from the sky in sheets. Her hand moves towards the passenger door handle and turns it, not caring what will happen if she jumps from a moving car, just knowing she has to get out.

If she survives this, if she manages to somehow get back to the X-Mansion, Ellie swears up and down – and sideways – that she will never, _ever_ , run away again.

"Don't bother," The driver says, his voice loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engines. "It's locked."

Ellie presses herself against the door, her heart leaping into her throat. Okay. _Great._ So she's stuck in a car with a potential serial killer who might be taking her somewhere deserted to chop her into itty bitty little pieces. This has to be karma. Maybe she'd been a man-eating titan in her past life.

" – Where are you taking me?" Ellie forces out, her voice stiff, flat, hazel eyes burning twin holes through the back of the headrest.

No reply.

"I asked you a question," She repeats, her voice rising. "Didn't you hear me?"

"If you think I'll answer you, you're as dumb as a box of rocks." The driver snorts disdainfully, keeping his eyes trained on the road. "Ajax will explain once he sees you."

Ellie doesn't point out that _he's_ the one who is as dumb as a box of rocks. He's just answered one of her questions – and at least she now knows who is behind all this. She dimly remembers said man: Blond, with closely cropped hair and long angled eyes; his face, nose and lips narrow, as if someone shaped them with a razor. There had been a female by his side, too - a statuesque brunette, with creamy skin and eyes shot through with gold. She'd had an unfortunate habit of nibbling on matchsticks, which had to be hell on her teeth and gums.

"No." Anger explodes through her, a white-hot lance consuming everything in its path. _"No."_

There is no way she's heading back to that hell-hole, to be poked at and prodded by more scientists in lab coats. Those monsters _laughed_ at her while she writhed in pain atop an operating table, didn't even bat an eyelash when they disposed of a child half her size . . . The X-Mansion may have blown up a tad too often for her liking, but it was infinitely a better home than that underground place she'd stayed for all her life. Chills vibrate up her spine, and heat steals across her arms, her legs. Agonizing pain sears through her, making Ellie double over. It feels like hot pokers piercing her eyes. Breathing becomes impossible, as though she is back in that glass coffin from hell. Ellie's eyesight hazes, and her muscles clench into hard little knots.

No no **NO -**

A wave of fire erupts from her torso, racing across the floor and up the walls, turning the inside of the car into an inferno. It engulfs the drive, who screams and thrashes, flailing about in agony as his clothes catch fire. The awful scent of charred flesh fills the air. Ellie barely hears his screams. Her panic grows wings and flies throughout her entire body. The walls are a mass of rolling orange flames, snapping and tearing at her; Ellie can feel the awful heat against her cold skin and cringes back with a cry. She has to get out of there, but there is nowhere to go; wherever she looks, there is fire. The flames roar at her, filling her mind, until all she can see is orange and red.

The driver swerves, loses control of the vehicle and smashed into the neighboring car – a shiny black Cadillac. The force jerks Ellie sideways, and her skull smashes into the window. As the car rocks to a halt, she wrenches the door open and rolls out onto a highway with a pained groan. She'll be picking gravel out of her face for a month.

She hears the impact of metal against metal. Glass cracking and breaking. Screams. The accident only lasts seconds, but the world around Ellie slows to a crawl. Crumpled metal litters the road like scattered tissue paper. A charred body, burned black beyond recognition, lies motionless on the ground with others Ellie doesn't recognize. Lots of limbs lie at unnatural angles. Moans and groans from more victims mean they are alive.

Freezing rain pelts her entire body, and it feels as though someone is repeatedly hosing her down with ice cold water. In a daze, Ellie looks down at herself and doesn't quite manage to suppress her panicked scream. She was sure she'd been wearing clothes – an over-sized Navy pea coat, faded jeans, and broken-in black cowboy boots, to be exact – but nothing remains, not even her threadbare bra, or her graying boy shorts. In fact, she is completely naked, huddling in a tight ball in the pouring rain.

"Y'know, I prefer my steak to be a nice medium rare, not extremely well-done." The man in red spandex pops up in front of her once again, like a recurring cold she can't quite recover from, and Ellie scrambles away on all fours, accidentally giving him a front row view of her bare ( and rather skinny ) body. She knows she should feel shame or embarrassment that a stranger has just seen her buck naked; but really, all she sees is the world hazy at the edges as she tries not to pass out, or worse - puke.

His shrill scream brings her back down to earth. "SOMEONE GET ME SOME BLEACH SO I CAN WASH OUT MY BRAIN – _Is this_ – THIS HAS TO BE SOME KIND OF PAYBACK FOR OGLING SPIDEY'S ASS FOR SEVEN DAYS IN A ROW - " Still gabbling hysterically, he reaches into his black duffel bag – Ellie squints, sees Hello Kitty printed on the side, and promptly decides that she doesn't want to know – and pulls out a bright blue hoodie, practically shoving it into her face.

 _R00D._

It's not like she has an extra eye growing out of her stomach, or anything. Flushing bright pink, Ellie slips the over-sized shirt over her naked body with a snide roll of her eyes; because _something_ is better than nothing – even if that something consists of neon blue fabric, saucer-like eyes and rainbow stripes. That's a disturbing combination, but Ellie doesn't dwell on it. Instead she holds out her hand, and quite politely – considering all that she's had to go through today – asks for his phone. It's a good thing her 'Mentor' insisted she have his number memorized.

"Colossus?" Ellie cuts off him off mid-lecture, holding the phone away from her ear in case he decides to shout. "I, um, _might_ need an evac. Stat. I'm stuck with some rotten _tomato_ -"

The man chooses _now_ of all times to pipe up indignantly, and Ellie shoves a finger in her ear to block out his incessant yelling. "HEY! For your information, red helps to hide the bloodstains -"

" – Make that an over-sized _ladybug_ , and I think I've just caused a _major_ traffic jam –"

He assures her that he's on his way, and hangs up before he's even finished speaking. Thankfully – or not so thankfully, depending on how one looks at it – the red-clad man stays with her as she perches on the railing of the highway to wait, chattering cheerfully ( some of it directed at her, some of it at the man who lies at his feet, more than scared shitless ) as he interrogates a survivor. Ellie averts her eyes when he skewers said survivor with his swords.

When she gets home, having survived Colossus' lecture on the way back, Logan, rather loudly, tells her in a voice that isn't so much a remark as a _growl_ , that he can _'smell the damn Merc all over her'._ Unsurprising, considering the fact that he's given her his hoodie. But Ellie mentions none of that, merely nods, and heads to the bathroom for a hot shower. That day, Ellie learns that the over-sized ladybug is called Deadpool.


	3. Meeting Three

**A/N:** 3rd chapter up! I'm considering doing more of these 5 + 1 things with Deadpool and Ellie, because, _damn_ , I love them so much. It isn't said when Ellie's birthday is, so I took the liberty of giving her one. Enjoy! As usual, reviews, favorites and subs are appreciated!

* * *

Ellie meets Deadpool again on her thirteenth birthday.

She had gotten up the morning of December twenty-first anticipating a four-day weekend for the Christmas holiday. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters took breaks the way most people went to the dentist – only when they really, _really_ , had to. Which was why she had school - on the twenty-first, her thirteenth birthday. It had been a fairly normal day, even by her standards; the mansion – and its occupants - had yet to blow up. She'd even had pancakes with chocolate chips and whipped cream for breakfast. But she should have _known_ her luck wouldn't have held out for the entire day.

Ellie had been tasked with restocking the fridge as soon as lessons had ended ( training in the Danger Room with Colossus ). Shopping list in hand ( half of the things on the list are different types of beer; no surprise as to whom had come up with it ), she dutifully trudges out the X-Mansion and enjoys the relative quiet of the tree lined drive before she reaches the bustle and flow of traffic on the street. It doesn't take a genius to see that a surprise birthday party is in store ( she makes a mental note to tell Colossus to let _her_ decide how she wants to celebrate her birthday next year ), and Ellie shivers in her long black cardigan with holes in each elbow as she weaves through the stream of people on the sidewalk.

She'd found the sweater in a thrift store last week. It smelled like decay and stale rosewater perfume and her skinny frame was lost in its voluminous folds. Ellie always looked like she was drowning in fabric. The black sweater reached almost to her calves, and underneath she wore a black, loose-fitting dress with a drop waist; and under that, torn black stockings with ladders in both knees. She was wearing her favorite pair of black-and-white Jack Purcell sneakers, the ones with the duct-taped hole on the right toe. Ellie had let her long hair down for once, and it spilled over her shoulders in thick, glossy waves.

The sensory input is astonishing - the smell of vehicle exhaust mixes with food from vendor carts, the shouts of hawkers blending with music from street entertainers, the awe-inspiring range of faces and styles and accents, the sleek silver spires of buildings ... And the cars. _Jesus Christ_. The frenetic flow of tightly packed cars is unlike anything she's ever seen ( not that she's seen _much_ , having spent all her life in an illegal facility ). There is always an ambulance, patrol car, or fire engine trying to part the flood of yellow taxis with the electronic wail of ear-splitting sirens.

Head bent over the scrap of paper clutched tightly in her fist, Ellie tries to decipher Logan's illegible scrawl with pursed lips, and is knocked clean off her feet when a black, slightly rumpled suit barrels into her. Without looking back, its owner continues down the street, weaving between knots of people. Her bottom slaps against the concrete and her elbows throb from the violent contact with the rough floor, but she scarcely registers the pain as a red clad figure – is that _Deadpool?_ – darts through the crowd like a missile, not hitting a single wall, person or lamppost. People scramble out of his way.

A mini Colossus shimmers into view and Ellie can practically hear his thick Russian accent in her ear. _"Rule One of being X-Men – Never let innocent people die."_ A hoarse yell can clearly be heard over the clamor of the people's screams that ring in her ears, and Ellie, after a brief second of hesitation, scrambles to her feet and follows, shopping list forgotten. She can feel the crunching of the gravel beneath her sneakers vibrating all the way up the muscles of her legs. Her already sore muscles bewail every movement of her legs and arms.

She should have known it was Deadpool. Who else would be caught dead in tacky red spandex? She eyes the mercenary caustically, taking an involuntary step back as she notices the man pinned to the door of a cherry red Volvo. ( She hoped its owner had insurance. ) The man might be in his late twenties or early thirties – it's hard to tell. His face is twisted up into a mask of terror and utter, hopeless misery. He's on the verge of going into shock, eyes rolling wildly, blood gushing out of the gaping hole in his stomach.

"You can't kill him!" The words leave Ellie in a breathless rush as she gulps down a mouthful of air that squeezes her lungs with its crispness.

"Oh no no _no_ , I'm just using his body as a pin-cushion –" Ellie winces as Deadpool makes a point of twisting the sword embedded in the man's stomach, blood pattering the ground in a soft crimson rain. "But I haven't quite decided where _this_ –" He waves the other sword around with his freehand, and even under the mask, Ellie knows that he is smiling. _Enjoying_ this. "Should go."

She swallows. Hard. Ellie has seen plenty of disgusting things in her time ( Logan in a wedding dress, Colossus in a frilly pink apron and that _disgusting_ blue hoodie of Deadpool's ) but her stomach roils at the blood soaked man in front of her. Gag reflex threatening, bile scorches the back of her throat, and Ellie claps a hand over her mouth, closing her eyes and trying to breathe. She is about to throw up. She doesn't want to puke. She _really_ doesn't want to puke. Ellie tries to inhale past it.

Deadpool is still speaking. "– If I let him go, he'll just kidnap more kids for Francis to experiment on!"

An icy fingernail skims up her spine. " _What_ did you just say?"

Deadpool repeats himself, but all Ellie can hear is the rushing of the blood in her ears. She eases out a breath through clenched teeth. So there _are_ more facilities then. She'd suspected, but had never asked. More kids forcibly made into mutants like her. Kids being smuggled from orphanages, thinking they were being sent to loving homes and new families, when in reality, they were being sent to a new kind of hell –

The first rule loops in her head, still in Colossus' voice. _"Never let innocent people die."_ The man deserved to die. He _should_ die. If he dies, the rest of Ajax's plans will crumble to dust along with him. She can spare more kids from going through what she had to go through. But a small voice in her argues that while he isn't innocent, but he is still _an_ innocent. Ellie remains rooted to the spot, her eyelids sheets of fire against the surface of her eyeballs.

 _Never_

 _Let_

 _An_

 _Innocent -_

Deadpool slams the blade home, and Ellie watches the man's struggle cease, watches the light fade from his eyes. The dark puddle beneath his feet slowly expands. Ellie takes two half-hearted steps towards the body before realizing their futility. The floor rises to meet her knees; the impact echoes through her body as if she were hollow inside.

"Uh – Kid?" For the first time, Deadpool looks at her. _Really_ takes a good hard look at her, and his voice is laced with concern. "You're turning green. Paler than normal, and _definitely_ green. I think I've seen _corpses_ with better color -"

Although Ellie wants to hammer her fists into something – _anything_ – she settles for twisting her fingers together until they grow chilly from lack of blood. The chasm within her that this man's death opened up grows wider, wider, and more darkness sweeps inside.

"– And you're bleeding." Deadpool tentatively reaches for her hands. Ellie lets him take them without complaint, watching him poke at the angry red scrapes on her palms – a result from being shoved to the floor minutes before. His face has the haze of a dream, as if there's a scratched up plastic film covering it – one that she can't peel off, because she can't find where it ends.

The wounds are big, and round, and raw, but they don't hurt as much as the hole that seems to have opened up in her heart. But the merc is surprisingly gentle as uses Kleenex to strip away the layers of dirt from her skin. He doesn't look up to see how she's doing; he just keeps working until he's satisfied that her scrapes are cleaned out. He even blows on her hands as he labors over them, just like a typical television mom.

"Okay, so I've got Hulk, Iron Man, Spider Man – _Oooo,_ let's go with Captain America!" It takes Ellie a moment to realize that Deadpool's talking about the Band-Aids, and she looks at him doubtfully, shuddering as he uses his thumbs to smooth bright blue plasters - _with Captain America's face_ – over her palms, beaming proudly at his handiwork. "I _swear_ , that man has a voice that screams S-E-X rolled in whipped cream and covered with chocolate covered chimichangas –"

"– _Sex?"_ Ellie's voice doesn't sound like hers, clogged as it is with tears and emotion.

"Yeah, you know, that thing where the man's penis goes into a woman's –" He starts to make what Ellie assumes is a crude gesture, forming a circle using the thumb and index finger of his right hand, and pushes his left hand's index finger into said circle. He stops almost instantly, his mask scrunching up. "No, _bad_ Deadpool! _Bad!_ Yeah, you're right, she's just two years old, she can't go around learning about –"

"I'm thirteen!" Ellie's voice cracks like an adolescent boy's, betraying the messy wad of emotions within her. "I'm not a kid anymore!"

 _Happy super sweet thirteenth, Ellie._

"Hey, kid. Look at me for a sec."( for once ) His affable tone, which hadn't changed, even as he'd skewered the man like a shish kebab, turns serious. He crouches down to look Ellie in the eyes, which reminds her that she is in serious need of a growth spurt – no thirteen year old should still be stuck at five feet. "You didn't kill him. _I_ did." Ellie flinches when he starts waving the bloodied sword around. Deadpool gets the hint, and stops. " _I_ killed that fucker, and I would do it all over again. _I_ killed him. Not _you_. You haven't killed anyone yet, your hands are still –"

He breaks off, peers closely at her dirt smudged palms and amends his sentence. "Well, I wouldn't use the word _clean_ clean, but you know what I –"

A watery giggle bubbles out of Ellie, surprising even herself, Deadpool especially, who ( rather loudly ) wonders if this means that Francis will turn up on his doorstep, gift-wrapped and tied up with a red ribbon to boot.

"My name's not 'kid'." Ellie says quietly, staring at Deadpool with those worldly hazel eyes, eyes that have seen more than anyone should be subjected to. Her eyes gleam with unshed tears, and she swipes furiously at them. When she looks up, the weight from her shoulders hasn't lightened in the least, but her eyes are clear and her expression fierce. "It's _Ellie_."

* * *

Ellie wakes to darkness and a weight on her duvet, the lights and sounds of the city shut out by soundproofed windows and blackout drapes. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she gropes about in murky darkness, until her hand grabs hold of the torch she keeps on her bedside table.

She doesn't quite know if she should laugh or cry at her ridiculous birthday present. If she isn't sure that the bright blue Pegasus, with its rainbow striped mane and large, wide-set eyes is a birthday gift from Deadpool, the note attached to its neck clears away Ellie's lingering doubts. She wrinkles her nose – Deadpool's handwriting is almost as bad as Logan's.

 _Dear Ellie,_

 _I'm sorry for killing that guy in front of you ( no I'm not ) and potentially scarring you for life. A little bird told me that it's your birthday today, so please take this to make up for the fact that I ruined your day._

 _P.S. You still owe me a hoodie!_

 _Your friend,_

 _Deadpool_

She falls asleep before she can re-read the note, the bright blue pony still clutched tightly in her arms, Captain America plasters still fixed firmly to her skin.


	4. Meeting Four

**A/N:** Okay, so I've just realized that I've screwed up the timeline incredibly badly. *sweats* Ah, well. Once this story is finished, I'm thinking of doing a retelling of the movie - but Ellie's going to have her original powers of telepathy and precognition - instead of being a living bomb like in the movie. Enjoy the story! Reviews, subs and favorites are appreciated!

* * *

Stumbling out of the jet with a yawn, Ellie stuffs the last bite of a honey and oat Nature Valley protein bar into her mouth, wishing that she has some milk – or better yet, _coffee_ – to wash it down with. Bright hazel eyes ringed with kohl study the scene: Eviscerated and mangled cars, check. Crumpled metal and shards of glass, check. Colossus lecturing the overgrown ladybug – "You've been warned before, Deadpool. This is a shameful and reckless abuse of your powers, _blah blah blah_ ", check. Hands in her pockets, Ellie picks her way over the mass of bodies blocking up the highway, wrinkling her nose at the red, slick asphalt, avoiding the mangled limbs and tangled bodies like the plague.

Even at fifteen, Ellie's growth spurt _still_ has not kicked in. Small, with close-cropped dark hair, she's wearing her favorite leather jacket and a black cable-knit scarf wound tightly around her neck. Underneath that, she's wearing a sheer black T-shirt over a worn gray thermal undershirt over the standard issue X-Men unitard; and over the unitard, a pair black combat boots.

Deadpool seems to finally notice her standing by Colossus. "And _you_ are?"

He clearly doesn't recognize her. Ellie doesn't know if she should be insulted. Sure, she's chopped off the glossy black curls, but it's not as though she's traveled to South Korea for plastic surgery. Ellie still has a heart-shaped face; a perfectly upturned nose; and soft, milky skin. Still looks like a Dresden doll in witch's clothing. Still has hazel eyes shot through with gold.

"Negasonic Teenage Warhead," She answers flatly, after a moment of silence.

"Negasonic Teenage – What the shit? That's the coolest name ever!" Just when she thinks he's going to make fun of her self-concocted codename, Deadpool surprises her yet again, like the time he'd pulled out Band-Aids for her scrapes.

Ellie shrugs, biting back a flattered smile. Even though they haven't seen each other in nearly two years, Deadpool hasn't changed one bit. Extravagant, loud-as-hell and _tacky_. She'd read the newspaper reports about the string of murders he'd left in his wake while trying to find 'Francis' ( if she remembered his name right ), and while Colossus had tried to catch the merc in the middle of one, he'd fled the crime scene by the time they'd arrived – except for today. It seems as though Lady Luck is shining upon them – or that could just be the sun reflecting off Colossus' iron skin.

"So, what? You're like, his sidekick?"

It is Colossus who answers in his thick Russian accent with a jerk of his chin. "No, trainee."

"So, lemme guess. X-Men left you behind on, what? Shit detail?" Deadpool shoots back, waltzing past the pair and over to the only survivor from the car crash.

Unfazed, Ellie perches herself on top of the hood of a relatively unscathed Chevrolet. Her feet dangle a foot above the ground. Idly, she starts swinging her leather clad legs back and forth, picking at her nails, which have been painted a smoky shade of 'Coal Hearted'. "So what does that make you?"

"Pretending you're not here, Negasonic Teenage Warhead. Can we trade names?" The Merc with a Mouth punches a man in the face, and his victim spits out a wad of blood.

 _Gross._

Pointedly ignoring Deadpool, Ellie mutters, "Can we go?"

 _"Look, I'm a teenage girl."_ Swishing his hips in what is clearly supposed to be a seductive manner; Deadpool pretends to flip his hair, sashaying over to Ellie with a high-pitched, sugary sweet falsetto. _"Oh, I'd rather be_ anywhere _but here. I'm all about long sullen silences, followed by mean comments, followed by_ more _silences._ So, what's it gonna be, huh?"

Deadpool bends down to look her in the eyes, until there is only a whisper separating their faces. With a tilt of his red, spandex-covered head, he demands, "Long sullen silence, or mean comment? Go on."

After a minute or so of _'long, sullen silence'_ , Ellie admits sourly, ". . . You've kind of got me in a box here."

Watching dryly as Deadpool crows a victory cry, shaking his hips and pumping his fists in the air, Ellie ( nastily ) hopes that he accidentally hits Colossus in the face; her mentor won't feel anything, but Deadpool's arm definitely will. ( He doesn't. )

Sounding tired ( even Colossus 'The Buddha' doesn't have infinite patience ), Colossus says, "Come along quietly."

"You big, chrome, cock gobbler! Are you really going to fuck this up for me? Trust me, that wheezing bag of dick tips has it coming!"

Upon closer inspection, Ellie – _finally_ \- notices the man pinned to a wall with a sword, much like how Deadpool had treated the black suited man during their last encounter. Shaved hair, long and angled eyes, his face, nose and lips narrow, as if someone's shaped them with a razor. _God._ She starts shaking, sweat suddenly beading over her skin, and every time she inhales, the air burns her throat and lungs. Her heart is propelling so much blood through her head that she's getting dizzy.

 _Oh,_ _God._ _It's_ Ajax.

"Negasonic?" Colossus looks at her sharply, but he sounds as though he's speaking from underwater.

She doesn't respond.

Colossus tries again, using her _real_ name this time. "Ellie? Ellie!"

A gasp. "Did you just say 'Ellie'?"

Male. Male voice, talking. Deadpool. He knows. Took him long enough.

Flames dance across the skin of her knuckles. Warmth spreads through her veins, reverberating down to her very bones. A high-pitched ringing scrapes at her ears. Sweat breaks out over her brow and her palms and trickles down Ellie's back. Her heart speeds up, faster and faster. Her lungs constrict far more tightly, the burn intensifying. Her hands and feet mutate into blocks of ice. She can't breathe, her lungs shuddering with sobs. Spots dance before Ellie's eyes; her chest burns.

 _. . . How can she be so cold when her very skin is on fire?_

"I'm not going back to that bloody shit-hole!" Ellie spits, terror wrapping cold, clammy hands around her neck and squeezing, shutting off her airways. "I'd rather _die_ than go back with him!"

"Negasonic, you have to calm yourself –"

"Ellie? As in _Ellie Phimister_ from the Bailey Rehabilitation Center?" To her surprise, Ajax throws back his head and laughs, displaying a row of bloody teeth. His eyes rove up and down her lazily, like the stroking paws of a cat. "You've certainly grown, haven't you? What are you, seventeen, nineteen?"

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out for a moment. Her throat is too tight to speak. "I –"

 _I'm going to kill you,_ she tries to say, but nothing comes out.

"Still as sullen as ever. You know, I've heard all the children scream, but I never did manage to hear yours, even when –"

 **SHUT UP, SHUT UP SHUT UP STOP TALKING -**

Her panic grows wings and takes flight. As if to match her rampant emotions, flames burst from her chest. A raging inferno lights up her entire body, consuming everyone and everything around her. Mangled bodies and even the damaged cars are swept away from the blast of the heat wave. The flames roar, their heat burning her face with their proximity, but leaving only her untouched.

Shaking from head to toe, Ellie collapses to the ground, panting with the exertion of using her powers. She tries to crawl away, all her instincts screaming at her to **run** , but her limbs refuse to respond, but they are so heavy, and she is so _tired_. She can't move. She feels hollow, drained of life. She can feel herself fading, wanting to slip away from the pain.

"Not going back. I'm never going –" The words come in mumbles and splutters.

She feels pain and gentle hands, but the rest of the day slides by in an oblivion of hot water and reassurances.


	5. Meeting Five

**A/N:** So I hope you guys like crack pairings because this is kind of what I did here - along with screwing up more timelines and ages to make them fit into the story. *winces* But I hope you enjoy this chapter! One more to go, and that officially concludes the series! I'll be posting a new story in about a day or two, so keep an eye out for that!

* * *

"It was the kid," Ellie says casually, taking a sip of Pellegrino.

Bobby chokes on a mouthful of popcorn. "Hey, not cool! Did you have to spoil the ending?"

If there's one thing that Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters doesn't scrimp on, it's the _entertainment._ There's an arcade, an indoor pool, a tennis court, a basketball court and a whole list of movies to choose from. They are sprawled lengthwise on the antique horsehair sofa in the spacious living room, watching _Sinister_ on the wide-screen television. Dressed in a fitted grey tank top and cotton shorts, Ellie stretches out her legs and lies them languidly across the couch, feeling infinitely more relaxed than she had on the highway. Vibrant emerald velvet wing chairs sit on either side of a marble fireplace, with a pile of quilts stacked on top of them, each one precisely sewn with diamond shapes, trees, circles or stripes. She snags one, draping it over her skinny shoulders. Being in a room with a human air conditioner is great, but not so much when her teeth start to chatter.

Bobby is tall and slim, with a fair, elfin face that is framed by a shag of sandy brown hair. He has sharp cheekbones and sympathetic brown eyes. Dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a T-Shirt, he seems surprisingly relaxed, eyes glued to the flickering screen. She's never been close to Bobby, but much to her surprise, he'd invited her to catch a movie in the den with him, luring her out from the confines of her room with the enough snacks and candy to give a person diabetes. She's never given him more than a fleeting thought - he _is_ three years older than her, from the planet Popular; they might go to the same school but they hardly breathe the same air.

"That's the way these things work," She remarks dryly. "Shock value and all that."

"I think it's the father," Bobby decides, gulping down a mouthful of grape soda.

Ellie cracks a faint smile. "And you don't think _that's_ twisted?"

Pounding on the front door interrupts the haunting music drifting through the room. She cracks up when Bobby lets out a rather girly shriek, the temperature in the room lowering by several degrees. Cold radiates from Bobby like a cloud of icy perfume, and Ellie cringes away, a stream of giggles still erupting from her lips.

" _You_ open it," Recovering quickly, Bobby jerks a thumb at the door, pausing the movie with a click of the remote. "That way, if it's a mad axe murderer, _you_ can be his first victim."

"Gee, thanks." Ellie shoots back, heading for the door to stop the incessant knocking. "But you know I'd just blow him up."

She opens the door and crinkles her nose. Not the most pleasant sight in the morning. Ellie studies Deadpool with a raised eyebrow, silently asking him what he wants. She is anxious to get back to the movie – she'd planned to spend the whole day lazing on the couch and being a slug.

"Ripley, from Alien Three!" Deadpool says in greeting.

The caustic remark that slips past her glossed lips seems almost natural. _"Fuck,_ you're old."

" _Ha!_ Fake laugh, hiding real pain." He makes a shooing motion with his hand. "Go get silver balls."

" _Is_ it a mad axe murderer?" Bobby yells, still seated comfortably on the sofa.

" _No!"_ Ellie shouts back. "Worse!"

"Is that your _boyfriend?"_ Deadpool demands, peering around her, trying to see into the mansion. He catches sight of Bobby's tousled hair and whistles appreciatively. "Ooo, you've landed yourself a _real_ cutie –"

"Someone kill me now," Ellie mutters, color flooding her pale cheeks. "He's just a _classmate,_ Douche-Pool."

"Yeah, that's what they _all_ say. But you wanna know what _I_ say? First comes friendship, then comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage!"

"Why'd you wanna see Colossus?" Ellie demands, trying to shift the subject away from her ( non-existent ) love live and into safer territory. "You guys going out for a bite to eat? Early-bird special?"

"Oh, like there's something wrong with eating before sundown or saving money. _No._ You know the bad guy that _you_ let go?"

Ellie feels the color drain from her face. Ajax is persistent, she'd give him that much. Even after she'd combusted yesterday, he was still alive and kicking? Every word slides off her consciousness – acid rain from a waxy leaf, running harmlessly over sealed shut stomata. Deadpool must see her ashen face, because he hastily moves on.

"I mean, the guy that _chrome dome_ let go. He's got my girl. And you're going to help me get her back."

"What can be worse than a mad axe murderer?" Bobby yells back, his face poking up over the back of the sofa. "Do you need me to freeze anyone?"

 _Tempting._

Colossus chooses to speak up, with that eerily sharp hearing of his. "Wade? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me, _Deadpool!_ And I've got an offer that you can't refuse!" Deadpool jabs a finger into the room, speaking to Colossus.

"There's your answer!" Ellie hollers, her answer directed at Bobby.

"I'm going to wait out here, okay?" He winks roguishly at the sofa. "Cute boyfriend by the way. The popular kid meets social pariah trope is way over-used, but it's still cute!"

Ellie considers blowing him up, really she does. But it seems as though there's going to be a battle, which means that she'll have to conserve her energy unless she wants to end up fainting.

"Movie's gonna have to wait," Ellie calls over her shoulder with an almost regretful sigh as she closes the door and heads back into the living room.

"You have to go, huh?" Bobby exhales a lungful of air with a huff, his normally bright eyes clouding over. "Mad axe man needs your help?"

Ellie almost laughs. _Almost._

"No, not a mad axe man." She swallows, and reluctantly continues. "A . . . A _friend_ needs my help."

The word _'friend'_ is said as though it is poison. But as much as she'll deny the fact that she is friends with Wade Wilson to her dying day ( which could be later, now that she thinks about it ), the fact still remains. The guy had rescued her from what was essentially an illegal human trafficking ring. He'd even dropped her off on the doorstep of the X-Mansion, indirectly giving her a home, with students and people she could ( mostly ) tolerate. And even if helping him, and returning the favor means coming face to face - _again_ \- with one of the men who had made her life miserable, she'll do it. A thousand times over.

"I need to get suited up. Otherwise, I'll end up flashing Douche-Pool again." Not an experience she wished to repeat, especially since she'd been border-line anorexic thin, with absolutely no chest to speak of, and blue veins like a road map that stood out starkly against ivory skin.

Bobby looks torn between laughing and looking grossed out. "Excuse me? Did you just say that you _flashed_ him?"

"Yeah, in the middle of a crowded highway." Ellie remembers Deadpool's almost comical screams with a dry roll of her eyes. "He didn't react so well."

She's just leaving the room when Bobby stops her. His attention is fixed on something on the wall over her shoulder, carefully looking everywhere but into her eyes.

"Hey, Ellie?" Sheepishly, he rubs the back of his head, messing his hair up even more. "Be careful."

". . . Yeah." She swallows the other ooey gooey words that want to tumble out of her mouth, and instead leaves with a threat laced into her words. "You'd better not finish that candy without me."


	6. Meeting Six

**A/N:** And this is it! The final frontier! It's been a pleasure writing for you guys! I have already published a new story called - **Are you there, God? It's me, Ellie** \- and I would love it if you guys took a look! It's in the X-Men Movies category, and it features Ellie Phimister once again! Reviews are appreciated!

* * *

"If we get caught, I'm so ratting you guys out," Stuffing her hands into her pockets, Ellie casts a dark look at Bobby, Kitty and Jubilation.

" _Please."_ Stretching the word out so that it contains ten syllables, Kitty waves a dismissive hand. "We've been doing so many late-night donut runs, and they haven't caught us."

"Stealing _The Blackbird_ has always been on my bucket list!" Jubilee adds excitedly, having yet to drift down from her adrenaline high of committing plane theft.

"Well, we're already trespassers and vandals," Ellie drawls sarcastically, letting herself be herded along. Ellie's 'bar outfit' consists of an ultra-short black leather pleated skirt, fitted white ribbed tank top, and cherry red sixteen-eye Doc Martens. She's thrown a leather jacket over her shoulders in a pathetic attempt to cover her bare skin. She's unused to seeing so much of her legs and collarbones, but Kitty had insisted that she looked _great_. "Why not add theft to the list?"

"Don't sweat the small stuff, Phimister," Jubilee is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in her excitement. "I've already Googled the place, and it's on the level. C'mon, lighten up!"

Ellie seriously has her doubts about said place being _'on the level'_ – not when it is located in what looks like the seriously seedy part of town. Smoke residue and other grime have stained the walls of the buildings a mottled brown. The floor is lower in some places than others, and yellowish liquid sits in the depressions – not flowing, not even rippling. It's sitting, just like the people – if one can call them that – lingering in alcoves, and staring at them with deadened, deep-set eyes. Younger ones in tattered and pierced clothing cluster in circles to share pipes and inhale wispy black smoke. Dumb pleasure suffuses their faces.

Ellie hopes they get there soon.

"Here we are!" Even Jubilee's cheerful chirp sounds a tad strained in the face of the stench of human misery.

The pulsing music spills out onto the sidewalk. Ellie squints at the plaque edged with gold. She blinks, once, then twice. A loud stream of rambunctious laughter can be heard.

" _Sister Margret's School for Wayward girls?"_ Bobby asks, and this time, his voice is flavored with a hint of doubt.

Kitty shoots the three of them a look. "Hurry up, laggers."

They enter the bar en masse. Loud, raucous music instantly assails Ellie's ears, and she crinkles her nose. She's seen things like this on TV, of course. Read about them in books. Listened to lectures from Colossus. But this is _exciting_ mixed with _scary_ and sprinkled with a whole lot of _this really can't be happening_ right in front of her. _'Bar'_ is too nice a word for this _dump_. She smells sweat and perfume and a few things she can't identify. The floor is coated with a layer of dust and sticky alcohol. Ellie tries not to cringe as she navigates around a patch of dark brown, which looks suspiciously like a layer of dried blood, crusted and gummy. At least the bar seats look fairly decent, the cracked leather remarkably free of blood or puke stains. Cozy wooden booths are nestled up against each other, each one lined with brightly colored cushions.

"I'll get a booth," Kitty has to shout to be heard over the music, and Ellie nods. "Gimme a Margarita, on the rocks."

"I'll have a Blowjob, with extra whipped cream." Jubilee pops up over Ellie's shoulder, as if by magic, and Ellie _stares._

"A _what?"_

"A blowjob. You know, the _drink?"_

"A Tom Collins for me," Bobby adds, right before he and Jubilee join Kitty at the booth she's managed to secure.

After promptly deciding that she doesn't want to know more about Jubilee's choice in drink, Ellie nods, and heads for the bar. She slides onto the raised stool, and signals the bar tender over with a wave of her hand. He is young, and skinny, with a tangled headful of hair. His glasses are plastic, with thick black frames that magnify beady brown eyes.

"What can I do for you?" He asks, sounding bored.

"A Tom Collins, a Blowjob –" Ellie and the bartender both wince in tandem. " – A Margarita on the rocks, and a Sprite on the rocks."

If her friends are going to get drunk, _someone_ has to ensure that they make it back to the X-Mansion in one piece. Ellie, for one, doesn't fancy crashing into the Pacific Ocean. It's a good thing that she's been practicing on the simulations. The bar tender reappears from under the counter to slide a blue and green can over to Ellie. He leans forward with a conspiratorial grin, "So, what kind of job do you need done?"

"Job?" Oh. _Oh._ And suddenly, Ellie gets it. "No, we're good."

"If you're sure," The bar tender shrugs, seemingly disappointed, and moves away to make the rest of their drinks.

Gulping down a mouthful of the sweet carbonated drink, Ellie's eyes stray to the drink cabinet behind the bar, a spot of color in an otherwise polished brown palette. A chalk board hangs on the wall behind him, names and numbers scrawled out in a messy hand. Polaroid pictures are taped to the glass cabinets, a good many of them featuring burly, bearded men dressed in scraps of tattered leather, with tattoos and biceps that bulge like tree trunks. One photo, in particular, stands out – a couple cuddling, wearing matching red sweaters.

"Who's the chick?" Ellie asks, jabbing a finger at the picture.

She's seen the girl before, she's sure of it. Ribbon thin, with a long cascade of hair the precise color of India Ink, the brunette's lusciously full lips are parted in a bright smile, showing two rows of pearly white teeth. A Ring Pop rests on her ring finger, which the woman shows off for the camera – and the world – to see. Not even the hideous fuzzy sweater can distract from how happy she looks, along with the scruffy looking man beside her.

"Oh, that's Wade and Vanessa." Casting a lazy eye over the glossy picture Ellie's pointed out, the bar tender ever so kindly explains, wiping his hands with a scrap of cloth. "Took that one right after Wade popped the question."

"Huh," Ellie remarks casually, turning her attention back to her drink.

Weasel shrugs. "Wade's on his way back, so if you wanna know when the wedding is –"

"Weasel!"

"- There he is," Weasel finishes,

Ellie straightens at that terribly familiar voice. And suddenly, it all flies into place. 'Vanessa' is clearly Deadpool's girlfriend. Ellie wonders if the man beside her is how Deadpool looks like under his mask. She hasn't seen him since she helped rescue his _girl_. Maybe if she sneaks out the back door, he won't ever notice –

"Is that you, Negasonic Teenage Warhead?"

And there goes _that_ plan.

"You didn't tell me you were friends with Wade," The bar tender states, sounding impressed as does a double-take.

"You say ' _friends'_ , I say _'person I tolerate'_ ," Ellie mutters, wondering if she should ask for something stronger before dealing with Deadpool.

Deadpool waltzes over, claiming the seat next to Ellie. She gives him a once-over, caustically taking in the bright red spandex with red accents, and his trademark Hello Kitty bag slung over one shoulder, possibly filled to the brim with all kinds of dangerous weapons. She smacks his hand away, which inches towards her can of Sprite. Ellie glares at him, but much to her ire, Deadpool only laughs.

"So, what're you doing here, kid?" The affectionate nickname sends a wave of warmth crashing over Ellie. "Hooked up with Cutie Pie yet?"

She can feel her friends gaping at her. Ellie, very carefully, does not look at Jubilee, Kitty, or even Bobby. Though knowing Kitty, she won't be able to keep her mouth shut – the fact that Ellie knows the Merc with a Mouth will be spread all over the student body like a bad rash.

" _Kitty's_ idea to sneak out and go clubbing," Ellie explains curtly, jabbing a thumb at the flushed Kitty, who looks incredibly cute in a slinky silver halter-neck dress. She avoids his second question, hoping that Deadpool won't press the issue. "So we stole a jet and came here."

"Ooo, _nice_. I'm _all_ for breaking the law and illegally acquiring jets."

Ellie snorts. "Wasn't my idea. It was _Jubilee's_ suggestion to come here. She found this shit-hole on the Internet, and thought it was a good idea to travel _two thousand miles_ from New York to Canada."

"Why, that sounds like a stripper name!" Ellie stares at Deadpool, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Is the girl with a stripper name the one with electric blue hair?"

"Yep," Ellie goes back to running a finger over the rim of the can.

He giggles like a school girl. "The cutie is staring at you. And me. Think he remembers me when I popped in to see you and silver balls? If he wasn't half my age and if I wasn't with Vanessa, I ten out of ten would tap that ass –"

"And there's another stupid." Ellie mutters, gulping down her last mouthful of drink.

"How mean! And I thought my favorite Sigourney Weaver wannabe would be happier to see me after all these months of separation!"

With a sigh, Ellie signals for another can of Sprite. It's going to be a _very_ long night.


End file.
